The King and the Bird
A/N: I have no idea where this came from. None. Also, this is un-betaed, so could you tell me about any mistakes you find, please?
I don't own Storm Hawks, for fairly obvious reasons.
The door to his room slid open with a quiet, pneumatic hiss.
"I've got the tablets, Finn, and some water, too. Shall I put them on the table?" Piper asked.
"Sure, go ahead. Did you find the cough sweets as well?" His voice sounded hopeful, expectant. She shook her head.
"Nope, you guys finished them all up yesterday, and I haven't been able to get any more." She sighed as she put the small box down next to the glass on the bedside table. "I tell you, it's been hell the past few days. Even Aerrow caught this flu-like thing from you, and Junko's got a stomach bug... It seems like I'm the only one capable of keeping the Condor going."
"What about Stork? And Radarr? Don't they help?"
"Finn, you know how Stork is. He's locked in his room with as many anti-sickness things as possible, and refuses to come out until the entire place is disinfected. And even Radarr has something, but I don't know what it is." Finn frowned, until he realised that it made his pounding headache even worse. "Anyway, I should probably go and start making more soup now, or something."
She turned to leave, and was almost out of the doorway when Finn called out to her – despite his raw throat.
"Hey, Piper? Do you remember the stories we used to get told as children?" She nodded, still standing in the doorway. "Can you tell me the one about the King and the Bird?"
"I guess so, but why?" she asked, walking back over to the bed.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking about them this morning. And I couldn't really remember this one, but I do know that I never used to get it... and I was hoping that I could understand. Y'know... just to see..." He trailed off uncertainly.
"Oh. Yeah," Piper said. "Squidge over so I can sit down." He complied, and waited for her to begin.
-:-
"Once, there was an old man – a King – the ruler of a far-off Terra. He was often lonely, even though many people considered him a fair and just ruler. The people admired him, although they often wished that his wife was still alive, too, or that he had had children, because he had started to withdraw from his duties once he had passed the period of public mourning for her.
Late in the evening, he was taking his customary walk in the Palace gardens. On the path in front of him, he found a bird with an injured wing lying at an awkward angle and desperately trying to find a way to shelter. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, with beautiful yellow plumage, and it was one of the prettiest birds he had ever seen.
When he saw that it was injured, he picked it up gently and hurried inside. The King gave orders for a man to look after the bird and nurse it back to health, and eventually a garden boy was chosen for this task. A large bird-cage was constructed, and placed in his throne room, on the same platform that his throne rested on.
It took a long time, but finally, the bird was fully healed and could fly short laps around its cage. The King was told by several of his advisers that he should set it free, but disagreed, telling them that the bird liked it in the Palace – they only had to listen to its song, he said, to hear it. Fearing the King's wrath, they didn't pursue the subject, and the King continued to watch it every day as it got food, water, and anything it wanted. It was his first friend in a long time – since his wife died, in fact – and its music brought peace to his soul.
And so, every day the bird got anything it could have even dreamed of wanting except to be able to fly properly, and it called out in beautiful trills and melodies to be let out, which the King interpreted as joy.
"One day, the King entered his throne room to the sound of silence. He crossed to the birdcage – a morning ritual he never forgot – only to see the bird lying on the bottom of the cage, silent and still. He opened the door of the cage to pick it up, and it felt cold and stiff to his touch.
The King was devastated. His best companion had gone, his first friend in years had deserted him. He spent days at a time deep in depression or in mad rages, and often sulked in his throne room.
Eventually, the garden boy who had nursed it back to health and looked after it plucked up the courage to speak to the King.
'My Liege,' he said nervously, continuing when there was no reply. 'My Liege, I believe that the bird died because it was longing for freedom. I think it died because it wanted to fly in fresh air under blue skies, and yet you kept it caged in here because you loved it too much. I... I think you should have let it go when it was ready, rather than holding onto it so stubbornly.' The courtiers drew in breath as one: no one criticised the King like that and survived!
'You think? YOU THINK?! Shut up! I don't care what you think! I don't care for your theories!" the King yelled, before hurling whatever he could get his hands on at the boy – including the bird cage. The boy left hurriedly, terrified of the King's anger.
"Pacing the half-destroyed throne room late that night, the King pondered the boy's words. He couldn't get them out of his head, and felt anxiety at the possibility that the child was right – maybe he had held on too tight? He couldn't have, surely. Perhaps he should have listened to the advice...
In the end, he thought, it didn't matter. The bird was still dead, and he was still a lonely old man. He sat back in his throne. He didn't know why, but a sudden feeling of peace descended over him, and he started to write – everything he felt he had done wrong, the things he thought he got right, and his plans for the future of his Terra. It was almost dawn when he fell asleep, and that was how they found him in the morning: lying across his writing desk with a peaceful expression on his face and an unfinished letter under his hand. He had died in his sleep.
"They read the letter, of course. There was an apology for the garden boy, the courtiers, and even his subjects. The Terra was thanked, and the arrangements for the Terra were also laid out – he seemed to have thought of everything. It was his last act as King."
Silence started to settle comfortably around them, but Finn broke it quickly.
"I see now, I think."
"You do? Is that a first?" She teased him gently, before adding, "But I need to actually get something done now, and you should rest. Sleep well."
"Bye, Piper," he said.
And then, as she left, he added something so quietly that she could only imagine that she had heard it.
"I'll set you free, if you want. I won't be like the King."
A/N: First SH fic posted (yay), and there are a whole load of them in the works - but I don't know how many I'll publish. One other thing - I'm not sure about the characterisation of this: any tips?
~TheAngel'sWings
